


Asunder

by Bonbonbourbon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, F/F, as requested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonbonbourbon/pseuds/Bonbonbourbon
Summary: It's important to be on the same wavelength as your partner.Sombra and Widowmaker learn that the hard way.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSoundOfThunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoundOfThunderstorms/gifts).



> This is a love story, but its not one that ends happily.  
> No character is killed off and its not cheating, but it won't end happy as that was the request.  
> Please remember that if you choose to read this work. I am forewarning you all right now.

The first time she saw her she was floating in a pod. That was a lie. A half-truth. Sombra has seen her before certainly, on grainy television screens, in the lines of a dossier, under the whispered breaths of frightened men. It was only the first time in the flesh, though saying ‘only’ was putting it lightly. There was nothing small about the whole event, nothing that dignified labelling it ‘only’.

After all, this was the spider who shot Mondatta right between the eyes, trajectory aimed straight through someone’s chest. This was the spider that slaughtered one of their own beloved. That did so while wearing the face of a smiling lover. She couldn’t fathom what must have went through Agent Lacroix’s mind as he was stabbed to death by the woman he promised his life too. She doesn’t think that was what the oath he swore was intended for, but life could always be counted on for cruel and unusual twists of tragic irony.

Sombra took a step closer, propelled forward by fascination and waded slowly through the inky dark of the room. She’s heard rumors of how the sniper spent her downtime and now was an opportune time as any to see if there was any truth to them.

She stared unblinkingly at Widowmaker, floating, held in suspension in viscous fluid by a steel helmet fixed upon her head. She was naked and her long hair splayed like tendrils, buoyant in the fluid of her chamber, like the rest of her. Hanging limp as a carcass in her chamber, Sombra would have believed her to actually be one of the dead if it weren’t for the beeps of the machine lying beside, registering the slowest of heartbeats that came from her listless form.

Too transfixed with the woman before her, Sombra failed to notice the wraith that slithered into the room until it was too late. She only had time for one last idle thought before everything went black.

Did the woman dream?

\--------------------

The second time she saw her was from the view from a lumpy mattress, head hurting and wrists chained to the guard railings of an old hospital bed. A role reversal. Her in confines and Widowmaker free. Free and awake, standing in front of her with her back on the wall. Sombra’s addled and traitorous brain’s first thought was how piercing and pretty her golden eyes were.

“This is an awful amount of information on Vishkar.”

She became aware there was another occupant in the room. Sombra turned her head, wincing slightly as the throbbing of her temples sharpened from that gentle act. She blinked a few times before scrunching them. The room was too fucking bright. She lifted her hand to her head – or attempted too, before she remembered that thick chains were bound to her wrists. She huffed. Fucking shit.

“That’s mine.” She grunted and hated how hoarse her voice was. She needed a drink. “Don’t touch it.”

“I hardly believe this information is yours.”

Sombra stared at the woman, squinting. Tall, lean – her eyes shifted down to her hands and the talons that grew out of one of them – and okay, what the fuck was that? She gave the woman a slow onceover, at her clothes to her manner.

“You a doctor?”

The woman blinked then smirked. “More of a scientist. Geneticist, to be exact.”

Sombra’s eyes flitted downwards to the weird hand again. She bit her tongue, physically refraining from making a comment on the woman should find a new area of expertise, because how good could she be with those kind of results? Those pulsing veins weren’t helping her case either.

The woman then stood up, lurching to her full height and started to walk to the door, _her_ files printed in hand.

“Hey- wait!” Sombra called out, nostrils flaring. “That’s mine!”

The woman paid her words no mind and swiftly left her field of vision. Sombra cursed and reared her head back, hitting her wounded scalp to the headboard. She cursed some more and hissed, both in pain and aggravation. With a grunt she began to pull at her restraints, hoping to worm her wrists out as she needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Do not.”

Her head snapped up at the sudden order. She raised a brow and forced a light grin.

“You’re still here, arana?”

Widowmaker didn’t deign her a response more than a light scoff. Sombra waited for a minute or two, letting the silence fester until she realized the woman really wasn’t actually going to say anymore. She herself scoffed. “Are you seriously just going to be watching me for the rest of the time?”

Her words were coated with a thin layer of anger. An anger that came not from being ignored, but from the larger issue of being trapped like a rat and having her files she so carefully curated in somebody else’s hands. She worked hard to get those documents.

“Well?”

No response.

Sombra grumbled and sighed, shoulders deflating. “Fine. You do you. Maybe, I don't know," an idea filtered into her head. "Maybe I’ll watch you too.” She stated, a purposefully scheming inflection placed at the end. To her utter dissapointment, Widowmaker still didn’t react. She huffed again. Well, she tried and with another long-suffering sigh, Sombra adjusted in her seat and got herself comfortable with the silence.

She stared back at Widowmaker and pursed her lips as she traced her figure.

It wasn’t hard to imagine Widowmaker on stage. She knew of her past, of who Amelie Lacroix was and her grace on wooden floorboards, twisting and turning and leaping with the gentle candor of what people imagined angels to move with. Ballet dancing and sniping weren’t two things that went hand-in-hand in anyone’s mind, but ballerinas could glide along a floor without a sound and move with effortless ease. Perhaps Talon had known exactly what they were doing when they chose to use Amelie Lacroix of all people to inflict irreparable damage on Overwatch.

“Does it hurt, by the way?” Sombra asked. She drummed the railings and fidgeted. Long silences were never her style. Widowmaker’s only reaction was a slight flash of confusion. “Being in the recalibration chamber thing of yours, I mean?”

Widowmaker’s eyes flashed and her scowl deepened. Sombra furrowed her brows and blanched, wondering what on earth offended her about that question. It wasn’t like she asked how it felt to kill her own husband. She scooted as far back on the bed as she could as Widowmaker made a move to stalk forward, teeth gnashing. It would be a lie to say she wasn't a little bit worried.

“Hey now. What I do-”

Heavy footfalls turned her attention away from the snarling woman ( _oh thank god, other people!)_. In a matter of moments the door to the room slid open. Sombra immediately sat straighter in the bed, instinctively preparing herself for what may come as she found herself to be in the presence of the leader of Talon himself. The geneticist right beside.

“Ah. You are awake.” Akande said as he stepped closer and took a seat beside her, one hand on his lap, the other smoothly taking the information _she_ gathered from the scientist-woman. “How are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?”

“No.” She responded as sarcastically as she could. “Were you the one who knocked me out?”

Akande laughed at her inquiry, the kind where his shoulders started to shake, his roar bouncing around the room. He shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye, muttering something or other in Yoruba through grinning teeth.

“Ms. Olivia-” Her eyes narrowed. How the fuck does he know her real name- “Do you really think you would be alive if I was the one to bash your head?”

Akande started to flex the fingers that resided in his gauntlet to prove his point. The heavy clinks of metal never seemed so daunting to Sombra. Up close and personal, his fist was the most intimidating thing Sombra had seen in a while.

“I guess not.” She muttered, blaming the fact that she had woken up from forced slumber for that silly a question. She tacked on a smile of her own. “Anyways, I don’t suppose you can let me go?”

Akande did not answer her. Instead his attention had turned elsewhere. He was rifling through the files of information she compiled on Vishkar and every attempt to get his attention was met with more silence. She scoffed and then shifted her focus to the other occupants of the room, partly from boredom and partly to scope out her options. She frowned as the geneticist had busied herself with reorganizing a few folders on a high shelf, easily reaching the files without a need for a step ladder. Huh, the woman was far taller than she assumed.

She turned her sights back on Widowmaker. Her snarl was gone and on her face was that dead expression once more. Sombra frowned. It was a pity that Akande came when he did, now that she thought about it. Part of her would've liked to see what would’ve happened next, to understand what exactly she had said to piss the woman off so much. They always said she was without emotion, but that was definitely an emotion.

“You do good work.” Akande said as he snapped the files shut in one smooth motion.

She faced him again, not bothering to hide her confusion. “Uhh… thank you?”

“Why don’t you work for us?”

She recoiled. “I’m sorry?”

Akande crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, a pompous smirk on his lips, and an irritating lift of one of his brows. He shrugged nonchalantly, reveling in her stupor. “You heard me. Work for us. We could use somebody with your set of skills. It’s your choice – either join us or we kill you.”

A shiver went up her spine from how easily that threat left his lips, like he was saying something mundane. Like he was giving her a choice between drinking orange or apple juice. She wet her lips. “…You do realize I was here trying to procure Talon information, right?”

“Of course. I am not a fool. Question is, are you?”

“I am not a fool.” She bit out testily. She threw the question back. “Question is, are _you_?”

He chuckled again. “What a feisty woman. Tell me, why do you hesitate? There is no downside for you. You get to live, you get to learn about Talon, and you get our resources.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to join.” She huffed. “I am totally in considering the other option is death.”

“Perfect.”

Akande bent over at unlocked her cuffs. She rubbed at her tender wrists, bewildered by the chain of events. She quirked a brow at him. “Wow that easy, huh? Can I just say I’m not really following why you’re taking a chance on me? I mean, what makes you so sure you’re not going to regret this?”

He stood up, file under his arm and smiled at her, genuine mirth in his eyes.

“You? Get the slip on me?” He barked yet another laugh as he walked back out of the room. “I’d like to see you try.” He challenged, before completely leaving her sight and something akin to a bristle of excitement stirred in her at this man’s utmost confidence of his control over the situation.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She grinned out then looked at Widowmaker. She smiled wider and waved. “Hey, great news! We're working together now.” She said jovially, twiddling her fingers for good measure. “That means no killing me, right-”

Widowmaker walked out of the room before she got the chance to finish her sentence. Sombra's smile slipped for a moment before her lips curled into a massive grin. Yet another challenge right there. She scratched her nose. A pretty challenge.

“Apologies for her." The geneticist said as she took a seat beside her. "She does that.”

“She often gets temper tantrums, hmmm?” Sombra joked, cocking her head at the geneticist. She extended her hand. “I’m Sombra, by the way – case you didn’t realize.”

The woman smiled.

“Dr. Moira O’Deorain.” She said slowly as she pumped her hand twice and Sombra was glad that her right hand wasn’t all weird, because even the nails of this hand dig into her and get uncomfortably close to drawing blood. “A pleasure.”

“Uh-huh. Right. Dr. Moira.” She banked that name in her memory, vowing to do a bit of research on her new coworker. “Hope we get along, doc.”

“Oh, I think we will.”

Sombra’s smile turned stiff. She wasn’t sure about the sincerity in her words as everything coming out the woman’s mouth seemed to have a sardonic and mildly off-putting tone to it, but better make friends than enemies from the get go, right?

“Cool.”

\--------------------

Sombra found her footing in Talon easily enough. As the months went by, she ingratiated herself rather perfectly amongst their ranks, her skills highly valued and appreciated for their many underworld dealings and infiltration missions. Plus, there wasn’t too much of a difference between Talon and the former gangs, clubs and entourages she’d ran with in the past, she quickly learned. At the end of the day, it really was the same shit under a different banner. Nothing wildly different from anything she had experienced before-

With one small exception.

“Ah, my favorite spider.” She said loudly as she noticed Widowmaker, not missing a beat as the woman in question started to walk faster. “In a hurry, are we?” She yelled at her quickly disappearing frame. “I wonder what sort of web you’re spinning now. Thinking up new plans for the next mission, perhaps? I could help.”

Widowmaker stopped and turned, cool eyes set on her immediately and she had to resist the urge to shiver from the look. Guess the dramatic and poorly done Shakespearean voice was too much even for her to ignore.

The woman walked with one foot in front of the other, coming to her in a way that reminded Sombra of the way a jaguar crawled to its prey. Sombra kept her smile in place and showed no sign that she felt a bit bad for what she did. She just couldn’t help it. She knew she shouldn’t be having so much fun teasing the poor woman, especially after last mission’s failure. There was something though about seeing her nostrils flare, to see a flit of expression instead of a dead and blank look on her visage that made her unable to stop.

And besides-

She couldn’t help gulp as Widowmaker stalked forward and became barely a breath’s away as she towered over her, lion eye’s alight and mouth practically a snarl.

-Widowmaker was simply one of those people who looked devastating when they were angry.

She really just couldn’t help herself.

“It’d be a shame if something happened to you on our next mission.” Widowmaker said testily, breaking her out of her internal thoughts. She leaned in closer and Sombra smelled traces of plum. Had she been eating them or was this her perfume? Her eyes narrowed and flashed and Sombra knew she must’ve seemed wholly distracted. Widowmaker slammed her hand next to her head and got impossibly closer. Sombra gulped again. “A. Real. Pity.” She finished, words oozing with venom.

“I-”

Widowmaker turned before she could say anymore and went back her merry way, as if the whole exchange hadn’t even happened. Sombra let the rest of her sentence die off and simply watched, standing in place and watched her go, a smile on her face and spirit fully renewed.

\--------------------

“Arana!” She greeted as she stepped onto the plane and unceremoniously plopped herself right beside Widowmaker. She tilted her head up and flashed her teeth. “Another day, another mission, huh?”

Widowmaker looked at her for a brief moment then turned away. Sombra shrugged, paying the slight no mind. Despite the many months she has been in Talon by now, they have yet to be on a lot of missions together yet. It made sense she hadn’t been able to build a rapport yet. Things will change once they have.

“Who knows~” She mumbled out, eyes crinkling as Widowmaker’s eyes flitted back to her, the spot of interest fueling her next words. “Maybe Akande will see how well we work together and soon enough, we’ll be partners for every mission. Wouldn’t that just be great?”

Her face didn’t change, but Sombra swears her eyes hardened. Without a single word Widowmaker unclipped her seatbelt, stood up and moved to sit beside Reaper. Sombra scratched her head and pursed her lips. She was expecting something a little more than such a lukewarm response. At least a growl or maybe a snippy response back. Throw a girl a bone.

But, it’s alright, Sombra reasoned internally. They still had the rest of the mission to get closer.

\--------------------

For a top of the line security firm, Helix-guarded facilities sure was easy to infiltrate. A pleased smirk broke out as with a few taps on the screen the oh-so-trained personnel followed the red herring she had formulated. She did a small jig of triumph as they all trailed through the hallway to a room that a break-in was certainly not occurring –Reaper was slinking in from the opposite end– will get stuck in due to ‘door malfunction’.

“ _Emergency. Possible breach in the east wing.”_

“Copy that.” Sombra affirmed. “Loud and clear. Assistance will come soon.”

“ _Roger that._ ”

She let out a happy sigh as they fell for it. Nothing beat a smoothly pulled off mission. Good thing she had intercepted their feeds weeks ago and installed her bug in their latest software update. She watched as Gabriel choked out the two guards who stayed behind, silencing them in less than two breaths. She clicked her tongue. Helix should seriously focus on training their personnel to be more vigilant. Granted she was an incredible hacker and Gabi was good at his job, but this was sloppy work.

She propped her feet on the dashboard and crossed her arms.

From what she has experienced firsthand, it felt like the only competent members of Helix were those in their Raptora program. The child of Ana Amari gave her quite a run for the money the last time they clashed, anyways. Woman wasn’t too happy with her presence. So maybe it was her fault. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to sneak into Anubis and perhaps she shouldn’t have let that careless insinuation of why she never got the call for Overwatch slip as the woman was firing rockets at her.

Not the wisest move on her part, in hindsight. Still, nothing she said was untrue, was it?

“-ombra. Sombra!” Widowmaker was glaring up at the cctv from where she stood. “Are you listening?”

She sat up quickly and trained her gaze on the left screen. “Oh, hey arana. Yeah. Yup. I’m listening.”

“Well?”

Sombra smiled dumbly. “Um.... Yes?”

Widowmaker scoffed, rolling her eyes in disgust.

“This is why I detest working with you. What got you so distracted?” Widowmaker hissed.

“Those golden hues of yours.” Sombra joked and took a loud sip of her drink as Widowmaker softly cursed under her breath and resolutely turned away from the camera. Her eyes crinkled. So fun to tease. “Are you mad at me?”

“Sombra.” Reaper chimed in the intercom, raspy and ragged, with an obvious undercurrent of a warning lacing his tone. “You’re supposed to be our eyes and-” He knocked out another guard- “our ears.” The smoke that wisps off his forms gnarl further. “Be. Serious. This is a mission.”

“Alright, alright.” She rolled her eyes. “Geez, it’s like you all can’t do anything without me.”

Reaper growled again. “ _Sombra_.”

“Imbecile.” Widowmaker cursed with a shake of her head, before flicking on her visor and taking position.

Sombra cackled (“Love you guys too!” She shouted in the comms) and scooched closer to the monitors as she saw that somehow backup had arrived. Her cheeky smile dropped. That was more backup than she thought would come. She put her fingers to work. Luckily there was a whole room of decommissioned droids Helix kept in the facility that she could access to help her with the trouble.

\--------------------

When she was trying to figure out a way for to get closer to Widowmaker, being carried by the woman wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. But beggars can’t be choosers and this was a scenario she definitely didn’t mind. She clung onto Widowmaker tight as she swung them to safety.

“My hero.” She sang as she held on, wishing in the back of her mind to have worn something better suited for the winter chill. Though compared to Widowmaker’s outfit, she supposed she shouldn’t complain. “A hero always has to wear spandex, huh?”

“Silence.”

Sombra laughed. “What? I’m thanking you.”

They landed on top of a decrepit building, or rather Widowmaker did as Sombra was nestled safely in her arms.

“Don’t get used to this.” The woman warned.

“To what? You telling me not to get used to being in your arms-”

She fell to the floor in an unceremonious heap as Widowmaker dropped her and walked off to the side and pulled out her radio, presumably to relay to support to pick them up probably. With a grunt Sombra got up and dusted off her pants with her hands. She then stood up and stretched, staring into the horizon and breathing deeply the fresh air. Despite the stumble at the end and Widowmaker needing to carry her to safety, she’d say the mission went pretty well.

“At this rate, maybe they’ll put us together from now on.” She chuckled to herself.

Truthfully speaking, she liked working with Widowmaker. She found that though the woman looked ready to maim her if she so heard her breathe into the intercom, the woman was fastidious and listened to every command she had. Whether it was trust or by habit didn’t matter to Sombra. It was nice having someone who didn’t second-guess her judgment on the job. She liked to have fun, not die. She didn’t understand why that was so difficult for some people to comprehend.

“I hope not.”

She smiled brighter, not expecting a response. Widowmaker’s furrowed her brows, perplexed and Sombra couldn’t blame her. She was almost sure that to the woman she was a freak for being happy about her frosty responses, but it was genuinely nice to Sombra to see any reaction than no reaction.

And if they were partners, Sombra could see even more.

\--------------------

Moira adjusted her tie, fingers picking at the silk cotton carefully to tighten it around her neck, doing her best to ensure that she did not prick herself with her nails. She couldn’t die from small self-inflicted wounds by her left hand, but the sting was still painful and the nausea that came with abhorrent. She sighed. The cost of progress could truly be steep at times.

But, well, at least she didn’t come out of it a ghost.

Speaking of which, she should work on the new batch of coalescing pills for Gabriel soon. It has been some time since his last dosage and his state was becoming rather erratic as of late. Mood swings were starting to come frequently and the pain, as much as he tried to hide it, was becoming unbearable too she was sure. It was slightly frustrating that she had not found a way to permanently maintain his physical form at a decent level yet for prolonged periods of time. Frankly, her ego was starting to take a blow.

Giving her tie one final smooth down with her hand, Moira sauntered out of the room, intent to eat a small supper and perhaps prepare a pot of coffee for herself for what might be a long night in the laboratory. It was already late and of all the faces she thought she might see in the break room, Sombra was not one of them.

“Hey there.” She greeted with a wave, a bagel in her other hand as she sat on the countertop, legs swinging. “Coming to grab a bite?”

“Yes. We all have to eat sometime.” She answered as she opened the fridge and pulled out a pre-made container of pasta and started to eat it immediately, not bothering to heat it up. “It is rare for you to be here so late. Usually you are rather…. Busy, at night.”

She couldn’t definitively say exactly what Sombra did at night, but considering that the woman was always pestering Lacroix during the day, the plethora of information she somehow sourced must have been achieved at other times, namely at night, she presumed.

“Well, sometimes we all need a small break.” Sombra said as she took another bite of her bagel. “How’s Widowmaker doing? Is she in recalibration? Want to tell me more about that process, by the way?”

Moira smirked. “You never stop, do you?”

Every single time they met the woman was always trying to turn over another stone, particularly when it came to Lacroix. Moira could understand the sentiment. That thirst for knowledge. Knowledge was power, after all.

“I’ll stop when I get my answers – c’mon doc, let’s not play the long game. Sooner or later I will get the information I want. Whether from you or from my own powers.”

“You always do want you, huh?”

“I always get what I want.” Sombra corrected and Moira chuckled.

Indeed she did.

“I think I’ll play the long game.”

“Awww. You’re no fun.”

It was strange. She took a furtive glance at Sombra, now distracted by a likely illegal file she extracted that now lit up her holopad screen. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Sombra had read up on her and knew of the rumors that swirled around her. Yet, the woman didn’t seem to mind bothered by her at all. She didn’t even seem to be afraid of her and that was truly rare. It was a welcome change, at least from a woman who too, didn’t appear to let life’s silly rules get in the way of the bigger goal.

“Hey, Dr. Moira? I need a favor.” Sombra sounded out as she finished her pasta. Moira placed the empty container and fork into the sink as she waited for Sombra to speak again. “You got pull. Can you make it that Widowmaker is paired up with me for missions?”

Moira raised a brow. “Annoying her back at base isn’t enough?”

“No. Why? You can’t do it?”

Cheeky girl. Moira moved off to the side to make herself a large pot of coffee to bring to the laboratory. Honestly, no matter how many times she requested, nobody seemed to remember to fix the damn machine already in her space.

“You want me to orchestrate the two of you working together?”

“Yes.”

Moira hummed to herself. Though she hasn’t been actively following the drama back at base – she doesn’t have time for such trivial affairs – she has heard about how Sombra spends her time pestering Lacroix, trying to needle under her skin and see something more. Her ability to stay alive after annoying her has made her more popular amongst the lower ranking members and to Lacroix’s greater ire, made her seem less intimidating as Sombra continued to live even with all her tendencies to push at her buttons.

“I mean I could just wait for nature to works its course and bring us together again, but,” Sombra grinned. “Where’s the fun in playing fair? And I never liked to wait.”

Moira took a moment to consider the proposition carefully. It would be interesting. Lacroix as of late has been exhibiting behavior that was new for her and Sombra was definitely a key component in activating these never-before-seen modes of operation. She believed that two days ago was the first time she heard Lacroix engage to what could be considered banter with Sombra over the intercom. It was a peculiar phenomenon. Lacroix was usually was so composed and always left personal business at home. What little personal business she had, anyways. Going with current trends, it seemed personal business for Lacroix was really only Sombra nowadays.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do - on one condition.”

“What?”

“Get the coffee machine in the laboratory working again for me, and I’ll do this for you.”

“Hah! Easy.”

In three days the coffee machine was not only fixed, but upgraded.

Moira made a suggestion to Akande the very next day.

\--------------------

Widowmaker didn’t understand. She stared at the hacker.

At her new partner.

Permanent partner under this new initiative that Talon was trying.

Sombra’s only reaction to her clear puzzlement was to stare back, a wild and victorious grin on her face. Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed and a creeping feeling of suspicion came crawling in. The woman definitely had something to do with the new turn of events.


	2. Middle

It was unusual for a target to be so unaware. She watched him dawdle, mindlessly enjoying a fat cigar and the midnight breeze on his balcony. She could see it in smile, pompous and pulling at his cheeks, in his eyes, wandering up to the stars lazily, relaxed and unvigilant – he believed the danger was over.

How wrong he was. He should’ve stayed inside. No one was allowed to leave unscathed after going behind Akande’s back, much less for a measly fifty thousand dollars. The leader of Talon wasn’t the sort to tolerate such insolence, such insult, and trailing his outline through her scope Widowmaker quietly informed her boss via intercom that she had the perfect shot. If Akande willed it, a bullet would make its home right between his eyes in but a second.

“Good work, Lacroix,” Akande praised, the timbre of his voice rich and the rumble in it genuinely pleased. Her finger twitched in anticipation of a greenlight, at the ready to pull the trigger upon command and quite eager. “But do not take the shot. I have decided to take on a different route in regards to my plans with this man.”

“…Oui.”

She lowered her weapon and sucked her jaw as she continued to regard him. The man (who was supposed to be _dead_ by now, by her) was still smoking, still standing leisurely, still blissfully unaware of her existence and the lingering danger she had posed and that made her skin prickle.

Annoying.

“Retire for the night. An envoy will pick you up tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock sharp. Dismissed.”

The connection cut off with a crackle. Widowmaker rose up from her lying position and pursed her lips. She detested whenever Akande’s plans changed unexpectedly like this. Robbed from the release she craved right when it had been at her fingertips, Widowmaker busied her restless hands with slinging her sniper rifle over her shoulder and clicking off her visor - another good move on her part, looking at this man was beginning to agitate her to the point that she was starting to entertain unwise thoughts

Cackles broke her out of her imagined fantasies, none of which ended with Akande being anything but displeased. She walked to the edge of the building, interest piqued by the ruckus, and looked down to the streets below. There, like an uncoordinated horde, were a gaggle of drunken men huddled near a hotdog stand. The liquor on their breaths was evident from the wrinkling of the stand owner’s nose each time they opened their maws. Her own lips thinned at the sight, though for a different reason. She was fifteen stories high on top of an old apartment building and yet it seemed like their laughter was barely a meter away. Sound travelled well in this city. Too well. It was a good thing she could convince her partner –her brows furrowed, the word still felt somewhat foreign- to take the night off.

Widowmaker turned her wrist and checked her watch. It was getting late. She should rest, as Akande had instructed, they had an early morning tomorrow. Widowmaker knew this, and yet when she began walking it was to traverse the rooftop to reach the other side, to the view of the Bosporus instead of the rooftop’s door.

She curled her hand around the metal links of the chain fence. Against the backdrop of a twinkling city skyline the dark waters of the river shimmered. The still waters glittered, in flecks of white, gold and every color light that streamed from the windows and LED screens within the city. It was different from the glimmer of the lake that surrounded her summer home in France. Over there the city far enough out of reach that only the moon’s light ever touched her Chateau after dawn, and the waters there would glitter silvery white like the scales of a fish. It was pristine, breathtakingly so, and Widowmaker missed it.

She should visit soon, and quietly, Widowmaker started to make plans. She yearned to stand on the balcony of the old chateau with a wine glass in hand, or walk down the long and extravagant halls and recall that more beautiful time in her life.

“Gerard…” She whispered softly, melancholy seizing her heart. “Oh, Gerard…”

To her, alive he had been her target and his death mattering only in the sense that it was the crux of her birth, but to Amelie he had been everything.

And life wouldn't allow her to forget that.

She gripped the chain fence tighter and swallowed. Sometimes, when she wasn’t careful, she would come. She would feel her, Amelie, inching closer as she cradled her face in unworked hands, skin like smooth porcelain save for the soles of her ballerina feet. She would creep, edging ever closer, till they began to sink into one another. Tears would then spring in her golden eyes, a dull ache would inevitably come arriving and Widowmaker would be left closing her eyes and shuddering as she tried to stop unshed tears from falling.

This was one of those times.

She gripped the fence harder, until her knuckles turned lilac from the white of her bones stretching her purple skin, with enough force to bend the wiry old steel.

“What are you doing in the cold?” Her breathing went haggard and anguish clung onto her. That _voice_ \- “Come in before you turn bluer, my darling.”

“You’re not real.” She whispered fiercely, a woeful tremor unhelpfully present. Against her wishes anticipation rose in her. A flicker of anger burst in her upon recognizing that. She snarled. “You’re not-”

She whipped around.

“- _Real_.”

And she was right. There was nothing behind her except for the cold winter air. She shook her head and berated herself for being sucked into the folly of her own thoughts, the slip of anticipation, for the dead do not rise from the grave.

Gabriel was an exception.

“See? You aren’t real. You’re not here.” She said aloud, murmured statements for her own ears. She wiped at her eyes and scoffed. She shouldn’t be acting so stupid. It was good Sombra wasn’t here to see. She wouldn’t have heard the end of it.

“Oh, I’m not?”

Widowmaker stopped breathing again. She can see a figure beside her, in the corner of her eye. A man in a familiar suit, gelled hair slicked back and a pencil thin mustache riding on top of a kind-hearted smile. Her head almost snapped from the speed in which she turned to face her side abruptly, recoiling backwards away all at the same time at the vision of something that cannot be. She heaved as she stared with eyes wide open at where he stood.

Or was supposed to stand. There was nothing. Nothing next to her.

…

Of course. Of course there was nothing next to her. Widowmaker took a deep breath. She must be tired for her hallucinations to become this vivid. It was time to do as Akande had ordered. Widowmaker walked briskly to the door to the rooftop without pause, keen to get out of there and into comfortingly dreamless sleep. She pulled roughly at the door handle and jumped as she nearly crashed into a figure on the other side.

“Woah! Sorry, did I scare you?”

She blinked. The split second of suit and tie and neatly gelled hair she saw was quickly replaced by a half-shaven head and a whole lot of purple. A weight pulled itself of Widowmaker.

“Non.”

“Uh, okay. Really now?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Sombra?”

“I’m here for you, actually. Akande gave me the heads up that you were done, but you weren’t coming in. Got a lil bit worried.” Sombra explained matter-of-factly. She shivered as a breeze went past them. “Woah, okay, that’s cold. Come on now!”

Sombra pulled her in by the hand and kicked the door shut behind them.

“Ah. That’s better.”

Widowmaker stared at their joined hands. They were warm, Sombra’s hands were warm. She must have been holding an overworked and overheating tablet recently. A twinge of annoyance sparked in Widowmaker. The woman had previously told her she would sleep early today, and despite being dressed already in the clothes she often wore to sleep (oversized shirt and boxer briefs) the woman clearly hadn’t kept true to her word. Widowmaker then frowned, unsure as to why exactly that bothered her so much.

“Alright then,” Sombra remarked as she released her hand to walk past her, touching her shoulder briefly along the way. “Let’s head back to the room quickly so nobody sees you walking about with that rifle of yours and gets scared, yeah? The last thing we need is the police.”

Widowmaker nodded in agreeance and followed Sombra. They walked together back to their room, her silently and Sombra whistling a under her breath a tune she did not know. Widowmaker let her. It was pointless to stop her, she has learnt (intimately so) from working closely with Sombra these last few months. The woman had a rebellious spirit that rivaled Akande’s and trying to inhibit the woman from a course of action would only make the trying woman want to do it more.

Widowmaker readjusted the sniper rifle on her shoulder. By now, it’s been a few months since they began working together. Around half a year, she believed, though she would need to ask Akande to be sure of the exact number of days. And throughout this whole new scheme of partnership, Widowmaker had not witnessed the woman’s habits to change. Sombra was talkative and touchy from the start and continued to be, consistently making conversation during missions, giving her light pats and squeezes on the arm and shoulder, and even the occasional attempt at a hug. The woman was honestly an enigma.

The hacker’s sincere interest in her did not make sense. It was a mistake if anything. She wasn’t good, much less for people. She balled her hand, digging her nails into her fist and did her best to focus on the stinging pain as her mind filtered back to the man that Amelie had loved.

Something began to hover. Her nostrils flared.

_Go away._

Her throat tightened as an unforgettable mixture bergamot, grapefruit and white vetiver drifted near her nose. Under the scent of blood from bleeding gums, the sweet scent churned her stomach.

_Go. Away._

Her ears picked up a rasp a hairs breath away from her, a sound in-between a gurgle and choking whine.

_Go._

She could hear droplets falling down to the carpets below.

_Away._

She tightened her fists further and struggled to control her breathing. She felt it reach for her with a hand that surely would look like it was rotting. She trembled as the distance closed. Three inches. Two inches. One inch-

A hand curled around hers and gently pried her fingernails away from the flesh of her palm. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped. It took her a moment to register the difference. These fingers were slim and the nails were painted, belonging to palm small and just a little calloused. The scents vanished, the air lightened, the presence completely vanquished as she focused on the feel of a hand that could never completely envelope hers. Sombra was gazing at her hand intently, face void of the commonplace toothy smile and playful delight as she inspected the self-inflicted indents.

“You’re hurting yourself, arana.” Sombra murmured, rubbing her marks away with a thumb. She looked up at her, unmistakable concern in her eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s just me here. Just me and you.”

Widowmaker swallowed and dumbly nodded. Sombra guided her into their room, to one of the twin beds and tucked her in. With the help of an unusually silent Sombra, her sniper rifle was removed from her person and stored back in its protective case.

The bed dipped slightly as Sombra sat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t answer. She was busy keeping her lips pursed and trying to control her breathing. In and out and focusing on the ticker of the old air conditioner of their room.

“Okay.” Sombra said understandingly. A slight pause. She felt Sombra shift again and when she spoke once more, her inquiry was delivered with gentleness. “What can I do to make it better?”

She glanced at Sombra. The woman was smiling lopsidedly at her, unlike the normal rousing grin that she usually sported, it was diminutive and soft, tempered with ease. Or at least she believed. All that Widowmaker was sure of was the sight of it made breathing come easier to her.

“Distract me.” She answered in a whisper that barely went above her breath.

“Okay.” Sombra said and moved to sit beside her. “Anything you want, arana.”

Without so much as a slow start, Sombra began to spin her tales, from the latest world news to subjects trivial like how people used to burn CD’s and what that actually meant. It was a stream of consciousness she was audience too. Soon, she sank where she sat and slipped under the covers with eyes fluttering open and shut.

Sombra’s pace didn’t falter despite her poor attention. She ploughed on, somehow understanding that it wasn’t the meanings or meat of her stories that mattered to Widowmaker. It was the lilt in Sombra’s voice and the intakes of her breath in-between, the rousing grin inevitably etched on her face, one which Widowmaker could picture clearly though her eyes were shut closed that were which she desperately needed.

It was distracting, and-

Comforting.

The clarity of Sombra’s voice in the paralyzing quiet most of all. Sombra’s voice was distinct. It used to bother her. It sometimes still bothered her, but right now there was no better white noise to drift too. It penetrated through all else, the mirages of a man long gone included. Soon Widowmaker was curled in her sheets, she did not know when, lulled. Her mind went dark and her body relaxed to the sound of Sombra’s voice and the welcomed heat that emanated from her small body.

\-----------------

When Widowmaker woke, she woke keenly aware of dead weight on her stomach and across her legs, ending almost painfully at the center of one of her thighs. She glanced to her side to where she believed the source of it all started and was unsurprised to see her eyes land on Sombra. The woman was on her bed, splayed like a starfish and snoring with her mouth wide-open. She laid on top of Widowmaker’s sheets, over the covers, her own blanket (pulled undoubtedly from her own bed) pooling and entangled around her left ankle. One of her arms was strewn across Widowmaker’s stomach and her left foot rested uncomfortably across her thighs and the heel digging in straight into her left thigh.

If it was any other day she would jarringly wake the woman with a swift kick to roll the woman off the bed. A sharp-tongued remark may have even left her lips when the woman stirred for invading her space. However Widowmaker remembered what had happened yesterday, and that alone gave her pause.

She checked her watch, still on her wrist as both she and Sombra had forgotten to take it off. Two hours before pick-up. Widowmaker considered her options, the care Sombra had displayed last night not unaccounted for.

She reached a conclusion after a full minute. She would let the woman sleep a while longer. It was the least she could do as a thank you.

Moving slowly Widowmaker attempted to shimmy out from under Sombra’s arm and leg, intent to remove herself from the bed as though she may be allowing Sombra further rest, it didn’t mean she had to stay there with her. There were things to do, things like packing and she wanting to shower. She froze as the woman shifted, groaning like she was rousing from sleep, only to flop away. A deep exhale left Widowmaker and she relaxed her grip on Sombra’s leg, letting it fall naturally away. If Sombra had done that sooner, she wouldn’t have had to expend energy trying to discretely slip away. The woman was a fickle one it seemed, even in sleep.

As she rose from the bed, Widowmaker couldn't help but notice the pillow marks streaking Sombra’s arms and the drool that was unabashedly pooling down from the side of her mouth. Disgusting. She reached over and draped the blanket over Sombra’s frame, the kind gesture taking a bit more time than she expected from disentangling the bunched fabric from off around Sombra’s ankle. Absolutely disgusting, she thought to herself again as the woman almost buries her face into her own drool as she curled into the blanket.

She clicked her tongue. Not one good trait. Sombra mumbled something or other in her sleep and it sounded like a series of chirps. It sounded like a noise of gratitude. Upon hearing that, and though she would not realize what had occurred until much later in hindsight, her lips quirked into the faintest of fond smiles. For now though, she simply kept nodding to herself and believed in her not quite serious aggravation.

Definitely. Not one good trait in this woman.

\-----------------

She should be insulted, really. Just because she was a hacker didn’t mean she had no love for non-technological enjoyments. Where people got the idea she was so one-dimensional was beyond her. Sombra took a large bite of her sandwich and chewed with purpose. Picnicking was one of those things she didn’t have the opportunity to do enough when she was younger. The streets of her hometown weren’t exactly grounds, let’s just say, for such occasions with the constant peril of gunfire and dirty streets instead of open spaces and all.

Now that she could enjoy it, why wouldn’t she?

Sombra licked her fingers clean and reached for another fingerling sandwich. Well, there was no need to focus on the negative. She finally got her wish and man was it a wonderful day for a picnic. The weather was nice today at Talon base and the grass freshly cut and vibrantly green. The peanut butter jelly sandwich she prepared earlier also artfully created, if she could say so herself.

The only thing that could make this any better would be some fine company.

And as if some higher power had heard her request and decided to grant it, Widowmaker came walking into her view. Her eyes crinkled and crinkled some more as the woman positively reacted to her beckoning call (as positively as Widowmaker could anyways, reacting with the release of a small puff of annoyance but nothing more) and came over. Sombra held out an unbitten, fresh from her basket, triangle sandwich of peanut butter and jelly for her.

“Want one?”

Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed and Sombra retracted the sandwich and her hand. Okay, guess that was a no. She patted the space next to her on the picnic blanket next, hoping she hadn’t already messed things up enough that Widowmaker was going to go. She brightened as Widowmaker nodded almost imperceptibly and took a seat next to her. Once the woman was settled she offered her food again – this time persimmons, two of the best ones she had in her basket.

She’s seen the woman eat one before, so surely this wouldn’t invoke such a visceral look of displeasure… Well, probably.

(She really, really hoped).

The offer worked and Sombra had to do her best to withhold a loud exclamation of glee. Keeping herself together and playing it cool proved a hard challenge even after as she witnessed Widowmaker carefully study the two persimmons with undue concentration. After deep deliberation that far exceeded the amount necessary for such a mundane task, Widowmaker chose one of the two persimmons, softly thanked her and daintily began to eat one. Sombra smiled. Widowmaker had a funny way of eating, she held the persimmon with both hands as she ate with only her fingers, holding it up close to her face as she took bite after bite.

Cute.

Sombra glanced down at the unchosen persimmon and inspected it. Between the two, this one did seem like it wouldn’t taste as good. She relayed her thoughts to Widowmaker, thinking the woman would make some arid comment about how naturally she chose the one that looked better.

Widowmaker instead scoffed.

“Taste does not matter. I can barely taste.”

Sombra balked and sputtered. She beat her chest three times as she choked on her sandwich for a second then wiped her mouth and stared incredulously at Widowmaker upon recovery. She couldn’t- What?

“Are you serious?”

Widowmaker’s steadfast blank expression told her all she needed to now. Sombra’s mind raced to every occasion that they ate. It was true that Widowmaker’s choice in food seemed bland and uninspiring, from unseasoned chicken to plainly steamed broccoli (and the occasional dry food mix thrown in when nothing else was available), but she had erroneously believed those were personal choices in food regimentation. She hadn’t – Sombra shook her head in disbelief – she hadn’t even entertained the possibility that Widowmaker couldn’t taste and therefore didn’t _care_ for taste.

That changed everything.

“Then why did it matter which persimmon you chose?”

“Because I still remember how to choose the good produce, Cherie.” She explained flatly. “Soft, but not too soft, a persimmon is best eaten when it is like that.” Her eyes flashed with arrogance. “And I never settle for anything less.”

Like she was emphasizing her point, Widowmaker promptly took another bite of the persimmon’s sweet and soft (but not too soft) flesh. Sombra pursed her lips as she mulled over her words and watched the woman eat. Slowly, a smile overtook her face. She scratched at her nose and chuckled to herself.

Figures. Of course she’d have taste even when she couldn’t technically taste.

Arana was simply full of surprises, wasn’t she?

“What?” Widowmaker asked after noticing her ogling, the hint of sourness in her tone lifting Sombra’s spirits up further. If she didn’t know any better, it seemed like Widowmaker was displaying a hint of bashfulness. Now wouldn’t that be something, Widowmaker all shy, she secretly reveled in the thought of it.

“Sombra?” Widowmaker asked again, a hint of a warning in her tone.

Sombra shrugged, knowing she should withhold any teasing remarks she had lined up, as gentle as they were. Widowmaker was becoming agitated and she’d rather not do anything to risk the woman running off. Not when the weather was so beautiful today. This moment would make for a precious memory in time.

And they were both people in need of more of that.

“I don’t know, things just feel kinda nice right now, doesn’t it?” She craned her neck to the sky. Her eyes trailed a particular cloud. It kind of looked like the old teddy bear she owned. “Just us two out on a lovely day, spending time doing nothing. Doing nothing feels good from time to time, especially with the right company, eh?”

She cringed internally. She laid it a little thick right there, hadn’t she? She nervously glanced at Widowmaker, anticipating that the woman was either going to scoff or would get up and leave. Those were her expectations, which is why she was utterly baffled when Widowmaker looked up introspectively and nodded.

“You’re right. It does feel nice.”

Sombra swallowed, suddenly embarrassed for reasons she didn’t fully comprehend, and rummaged the wicker basket for another sandwich to busy herself.

“Ah, you agree? G-great, haha. Very good.” She all but breathed out and quickly stuffed the sandwich she grabbed into her mouth. If she couldn’t stop her brain she could stop her mouth before she said anything more to ruin the good vibes (she did retain enough mind to realize she was starting to ramble and that was not a good thing to do when trying to get on Widowmaker’s good side).

 Sombra chewed on her nutritionally less sound treat to collect her bearings and as she chewed, Sombra dared peek at Widowmaker again. Widowmaker was miraculously still sitting next to her and eating that one persimmon delicately. Sombra’s heart warmed as she continued to stare. It was pretty difficult to tell with Widowmaker sometimes, but she was pretty sure that the woman was - and did she dare say it - content?  It really did seem so to Sombra.

Her eyes crinkled, a wry smile formed on her lips and she took a swig of her drink. Today was turning out so wonderfully that she could forget, if for only moment, that in her mission to expose The Conspiracy she was willingly helping Talon ruin the world. Her throat bobbed. That wasn’t something she was proud of and with another wolfish bite of yet another fingerling sandwich, Sombra made it a point to think about that no further at least for the time-being.

\-----------------

Sombra was getting better, Akande noted. Perhaps it was time to take it up a notch or two.

“How are things between Lacroix and yourself lately?”

Akande moved one of his rooks, hiding a smirk at the suspicion that flitted across Sombra’s face at his inquiry. He shrugged disarmingly and gestured at the chess board with an open hand. She unsteadily took her eyes off him and planted them back to the board.

“You’ve never asked me anything about that before.” She muttered, fully unconvinced of the sincerity of his question. She moved one of her own rooks. “You trying to rattle me while we are playing? I never took you for a cheat.”

“Well, you know how the saying goes: The winner takes it all in the end, Olivia.” He rumbled out and Sombra’s eye twitched at the usage of her real name rather than her moniker. He snorted. “I do not understand why it gets under your skin whenever I call you by your name. Your name is Olivia isn’t it, _Olivia_?”

She grumbled under her breath. Akande doesn’t catch most of what she says, but he caught enough to hear her call him a rude bitch. What a foul-mouthed girl she could be. He mumbled something or other under his own breath, something perhaps as rude.

“Whatever man, just play your turn.” Sombra said loudly, these set of words clearly intended for his ears unlike her previous quip. “Quit trying to get into my head. It’s not going work.”

He grinned. He was attempting to rile her, true, but he did mean his words. He was fond of her. Sombra was intelligent, resourceful and had a charm about her despite her shortcomings. It was why he let her get away with a lot more than what his advisors considered prudent. They, rightly so, continued to warn him of her and her lack of loyalty to the Talon cause. It was a point of contention between him and his most trusted, but sacrifices must be made for progress and it didn’t hurt that her skills were worth the trouble.

It was always good to have someone on his side to serve reminder of human dominion; it helped moral, it helped the cause. It was exactly what they needed.

He knocked one her pawns out of play. Sombra swore loudly. He chuckled inwardly. It was too obvious that pawn had a part to play in what was her winning strategy with the way her eyes perpetually glanced at it. Well, Sombra could afford to be green in some ways for now, there was still plenty of time to learn.

“Why Sombra,” Moira said in lieu of a greeting as she came walking in, the steam from her piping hot cup of coffee trailing as she sauntered closer. She bent over to look at the board, too close to Sombra for her liking, judging from the woman’s annoyed reaction. “Are you about to _lose_?”

Akande wasn’t sure if she meant to make her comment sound like a sneer, but it definitely sounded like one.

“No. I’m not.” Sombra said flatly, clearly already upset by him foiling her plans and having Moira’s insincere seeming greeting not helping her mood in the slightest. “Now give me some space to breathe. I need to think.”

Moira chuckled and agreed to Sombra’s wishes with a cocksure smile. She drew back up to her full height and stepped away to sit on the couch. She watched their game casually, in-between reading whatever she had pulled up on her tablet. His lips thinned almost imperceptibly as he failed to discern what exactly she was looking at. In any case, it better be Talon-related. He had noticed that Moira’s been using his facilities for far too many personal reasons as of late. They would soon have to have discussion on that if this bad habit of hers continued.

“Boom. What do you think of that?”

Akande felt pride burst it him upon realizing that Sombra had picked up on what he had done in a previous session and used it against him. Now he was the one blocked from certain victory. His fingers twitched as he felt his spirit rise from being challenged with his own tricks.

“You are improving quickly, Olivia. I think-”

“Oh no you don’t.” Sombra said, cutting him off mid-praise. “I know you’re trying to do some word voodoo and cheat your way into victory again and that simply isn’t happening.”

 “It was a compliment.”

“It was going to become something else.”

“What was going to be something else?” Moira asked from across the room and Akande smirked as Sombra’s rolled her eyes dramatically.

“ _Olivia_ here was worried that I would bring up Lacroix again, since nothing rattles her like the mention of that woman.” He savored the embarrassment that bloomed on Sombra’s face. “Isn’t that right, _Olivia_? _”_

“Fuck you.” She roughly picked up one of her rooks and put it down in an erroneous position, too distracted to notice her error. “I’m _not_ rattled.” She hissed furiously and then began to mumble and shrug sheepishly. “I don't know, I just think it’s cool that we get along now considering how much she hated me in the beginning.”

“Well, perhaps she hated you because you spied on her when she was naked.” Moira commented airily. Sombra sputtered and even he couldn’t help a small spit. “That makes for a terrible first meeting, does it not?”

Sombra face turned brighter red. Akande can practically hear the steam coming out of her ears. Moira locked eyes with him and they both grinned at each other. He scratched at the side of his cheek with his fingers and hummed. Perhaps he could let it slide for a _little_ while longer how much Moira uses his facilities for private work.

“It does make for a terrible first impression.” He agreed. He clicked his tongue and shook his head at Sombra with mock disapproval. “Naughty girl.”

“That’s not-!” Sombra threw her hands in the air. “Ugh! I can’t believe you two are working together to win at a stupid chess game. And for the record, I didn’t spy on her cuz she was naked!”

“Not rattled by Lacroix, my foot.” He muttered, purposefully loud enough for Sombra to clearly hear. “I’m getting the feeling she’s rattling your heart quite a bit.”

He chuckled as she frazzles again and makes yet another mistake, falling for the bait he dangled hook, line and sinker. He’s been watching her lately. Like his advisors said, she was not one to trust and it was always wise to learn more on those who had half a mind not to follow him blind. It was the reason she wasn’t in the cannon fodder ranks.

“Your turn.”

“Hn.”

He hasn’t watched hours of footage on her, he didn’t have the time, but nothing went on in his compound without his knowledge. He knew of everyone’s personal business, the gradual closeness that was forming between Sombra and Lacroix included, not that it was a well-kept secret by any means.

He tutted as Sombra made her final mistake.

“Y’know Olivia, you shouldn’t show your weakness like that. It might just hit you back one day.”

And with that Akande executed his last move and enclosed on her king.

Checkmate.

\-----------------

The weather went from cold to warm to cold yet again. Her relationship with Widowmaker fortunately, did not. Sombra was slowly, but surely chipping away at her boundaries and unearthing the warm center that continued to persist in the woman whose skin had long turned to ice. The best part was that it seemed Widowmaker was to learning things about herself along with her and Sombra loved the little bit of light that crossed her eyes when she found something new about herself fascinating. All in all, she loved hanging out with Widowmaker.

But maybe not right now.

“It’s so FUCKING COLD!!!”

Sombra turtled herself further down into her winter jacket and shivered uncontrollably. Her walking had transformed into a stilted robotic shuffle from the desire for her coat not lift and allow any more of the cold draft to sneak in. She bobbed along, a short barrel looking blob, toddling after Widowmaker. She felt irritation rise at her at Widowmaker’s casual saunter. The woman didn’t even bother to button up her petticoat. It floated and danced in the wind to the rhythm of her light-footed steps. Sombra became irked. It wasn’t right. No one should have the power to look like a model in these weather conditions.

“How are you not cold?!”

“Moira.” Widowmaker dryly responded without missing a beat.

Sombra sneezed and wrapped her arms around herself tighter. Like holy shit was it cold. Her teeth chattered as she swore up and down in her head. Now, she really didn’t agree with the doc’s methods – of madness, she liked to say jokingly (well, half-jokingly, anyways) – but the temperatures currently were so ungodly she felt a good portion of her entertain the thought of going under Moira’s scalpel for some of that anti-cold ability.

Like she wasn’t suffering enough, the wind randomly strengthened.

“Fucking shit!”

Sombra rushed to bury herself in Widowmaker’s side, ignoring a scathing comment about her being such a child. They both almost take a tumble down from her tackle of a hug. She pressed the length of herself on Widowmaker’s side in the confusion, hoping to leech any sort of warmth from the woman, as small of the chances as it may be.

“It’s so cold, arana. You don’t understand how cold it is.” She said as the woman tried to pry her off. She clutched the woman tighter. “Please hold me, save me from these winds. Arana, _please_.”

Sombra didn’t know what did it to make Widowmaker relent, but at this point in time she didn’t care. All that mattered was that Widowmaker slackened and allowed the hold and she was finally getting a bit of reprieve from mother’s nature wrath. Walking naturally became awkward for the rest of the journey as she clung on like an overgrown parasite. She sniffled and rubbed her nose with her free hand, the other continuing to stay looped around Widowmaker’s with a strong vice-like grip.

“…What?” She asked as she noticed Widowmaker staring at her introspectively.

The woman blinked, like she had just realized she was ogling.

“Nothing. But here.”

Widowmaker slipped her winter hat off her head and placed it on Sombra, carefully brushing her bands out her face as she set it on. For a brief moment, Sombra forgot about the winds, her senses focused on the tenderness in which Widowmaker touched her and the unexpected blip of compassion.

“Let’s pick up the pace.” Widowmaker said, her voice bringing her back to reality. Sombra cocked her head dumbly. “You are going to fall sick at this rate and that would not be good.”

“I… Yeah.” Her face felt hot, flushed red, and not from being whipped by the winds of this horrid place. She licked her lips, head ringing as she repeated in her head Widowmaker’s spoken worry. “Let’s.”

They pick up the pace. Awkward walking became awkward running, and as uncoordinated as their steps were with both of them out of sync with another from the virtue of vastly different lengths of legs, they never let go of each other. She didn’t let go of Widowmaker, and Widowmaker didn’t let go Sombra. In fact, Widowmaker held onto her tightly back and Sombra was left wondering if she was having a fevered dream.

\-----------------

When Sombra awoke the next morning and remembered she was still in the cold hellhole that was Russia in the winter she groaned and then damn near whimpered as she checked her phone and saw that the wind chill would be exponentially worse today according to online predictions. She really did not want to get up and subjugate herself to the torture that was this awful weather.

But duty fucking called. If only saving the world from The Conspiracy would be easy, or at least in the Bahamas (why couldn’t it be in the Bahamas? She would prefer being able to unveil their secrets from the comfort of a sandy beach and a Mai Tai in hand than dressed in bundles of scratchy clothing that crinkled with each step).

She trudged to get her clothes and her brows shot up as she found an extra sweater on top of her clothes. She picked it up and was pleasantly surprised that the wool was much softer than the usual standard issue of clothing provided by Talon.

Actually…

Sombra turned the sweater over and found the tag on it. She frowned, confused. Actually this wasn’t even standard issue. Where did this even come from?

“It will help.”

She turned to Widowmaker, dressed and ready to go. She pressed the sweater to her chest as her heart swelled with wonder and delight.

“Did you… You got this for me, arana?”

“…Oui.” Widowmaker said and Sombra swore her cheeks turned a darker purple.

Sombra scrambled to the bathroom to get ready, mood shifting dramatically. Her mind raced and the emotions that welled up in her felt damn near indescribable. A thousand thoughts went through her head and the single coherent one was that Widowmaker had gotten her a gift. She wrenched off the tag and threw the sweater on. She thumbed at the jumper as she checked herself out in the mirror.

“It looks good.” Widowmaker said approvingly from behind her, resting on the side of the door languidly.

Sombra swallowed. For the first time in her life she understood the merits of sweater weather. She stroked at the wool fabric and nodded. Oh, was she going to wear this new favorite jumper of hers to death.

\-----------------

“How are you feeling, Lacroix?”

“I don’t feel.” Widowmaker answered bitingly, staring at her with dead eyes. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

Moira offered the woman a cryptic smile in lieu of any proper answer for that response and laughed inwardly as Widowmaker scoffed and continued her preparations to go into the chamber with a certain degree of petulance. Moira’s sneer of a smile stayed as she reclined in her seat and twirled her stylus, intrigued at the subtle display. It had been prevalent from the start that she never quite succeeded in squelching all the emotion out of Lacroix. The faults in her initial experiment only became glaringly obvious as of late however, and Moira would bet all the funding in the world that it was all because of one Olivia Colomar considering what she has been hearing through the grapevine and what she has witnessed firsthand.

She didn’t mind the changes. It was fascinating to observe Widowmaker’s behavior, to witness the changes in her. Changes that were largely for the better, some might say. At least a certain guardian angel would, anyways. Moira wondered how Dr. Ziegler was doing. She was making further advances undoubtedly, the woman was not the type to sit on her hands, but in what field? What sort? She would love to have another peek at her findings. It was a pity they didn’t see eye-to-eye, they would’ve made for a fabulous team to pave the way to the future.

 “I am ready.” Widowmaker said from where she stood in the chamber, stark naked and helmet fixture fixed on. Moira hummed. It was funny. It had stopped being surreal by now that Widowmaker now willingly went into the chamber, despite how… disobedient Amelie Lacroix had been.

But things change, don’t they?

They always did.

Moira nodded and flipped a switch. The glass chamber shut and viscous liquid entered. She sighed as the recalled the fear that used to be beholden to this woman when this process began.

Contrary to popular belief, she hadn’t enjoyed turning the woman into what she was today. A part of her did wish that woman had been a more willing participant, like Gabriel or even herself. But sacrifices must be made, and the pain she brought was simply an unfortunate circumstance towards the advances she had to make for the betterment of society. She learnt so _much_ from what she did to Lacroix.

The door to the room dinged. The light strip above went from red to green and Moira made a harmless bet with herself that Akande would be the one to come walking in. She was wrong.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Moira asked as Sombra came close.

Sombra scrunched her nose. “Ugh. Why do you always feel a need to talk like that?”

“Mind your manners. I do hope you didn’t come here to ask for a favor with that attitude.” Moira warned as she clicked on her tablet with her stylus and brought up Widowmaker’s vitals. Levels seemed adequate. Moira tapped her stylus repeatedly on the side of her tablet. Perhaps she could increase the dosage of a few of the chemicals. “So, again I ask, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“If anyone is owing anybody, it’s you to me. I came here as a courier for you. Akande told me to give this to you.” Sombra said and shook the box she held in her hands. She glanced at Widowmaker. “How’s she doing?”

“Well aren’t you a curious one.”

 “Geez it’s just a question.” Sombra mumbled, kicking at the floor with the heels of her feet. “Look, I know that this is needed to keep her stable, but is it painful? Nice? Alright, at least? Does she like it in there?”

Did she like it in there?

Moira fiddled with her stylus. Well, she supposed that depended on who she was talking about. Certainly not the case for the fresh-faced young woman that Widowmaker was in the past, beautiful and too naïve for her own good. A flash of the Overwatch badge, a lie about her husband and trust was fully given. Then there was non-stop crying, whimpers and the banging on the glass walls with painted fingernails rubbed raw. Moira remembered her eyes most of all, the way they shook as she eagerly pressed the button and the liquid came running in and-

“Doc?”

Moira was brought back to reality. She scratched at her face with her fingers.

“I… Um…” She waved her hand dismissively. “She finds it alright now. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh, okay… Are _you_ okay?”

“Peachy.” Moira answered dryly and stood up from her seat. She walked over and gestured at the package in Sombra’s hand. “That is for me, I assume?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Sombra handed the box over. “You’re lucky it’s not a file – as if I would ever be the messenger for a printed file. Can you imagine? We have cloud storage for god’s sake.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea.” Moira remarked idly. She set the package down on her desk and smirked when she caught Sombra’s inquiring stare. “I mean, it stops nosy people like you from discovering their secrets.”

“Uh, no. It wouldn’t _stop_ me. It’d make it a challenge, sure, but I’d still get it in the end.” Sombra said testily, eyes flashing with slight indignation that Moira would think otherwise. “…But I guess I get your point. Anyways, my work here is done. If you don’t need anything, I’m going to head off, yeah?” Sombra announced, already backtracking out of her office. “See what’s going on with Gabe or something.”

“Alright. That’s fine. I don’t need anything from you Sombra. You’re already doing more than enough as it is.” She murmured at the end.

“Um… Yeah, okay whatever. See ya.” Sombra replied back awkwardly before turning to walk correctly.

Moira chuckled and waved cheerily again when Sombra turned her head back a couple times, that unsure look etched beautifully on her face. Once Sombra was out of sight, she let her hand dropped and walked back to her desk to pick up her tablet. She opened Widowmaker’s vitals and went straight back to work, regulating her and making changes to the concoctions to be pumped into her based on last week’s mission report. At the end of the day, her ability to work here and use Akande’s facilities meant the advantages she provided must be working top-notch.

Widowmaker, included.

\-----------------

She wasn’t quick enough. She shot the man, but not in time. Widowmaker cursed and sunk down to the ground slowly, clutching the hole in her stomach. Despite her efforts, black-blue blood kept flowing out, seeping through her fingers to dribble on her legs and the concrete ground. She clicked on her commlink and requested for immediate pick-up due to medical emergency.

Her mood soured. Akande would not be happy. Neither would Dr. O’Dearain.

(And she was recalibrated barely two days ago - ridiculous)

Widowmaker eased on her wound just the slightest to inspect her fingers. She rubbed them together. The slick of her blood was cold to the touch and difficult to get off, strikingly unnatural by all accounts and served as yet another reminder of what she was. A heretical creation, a heartless monster, completely inhumane in the eyes of the beloveds of those she killed. If she died it would undoubtedly be a cause for celebration for most. Nobody would mourn for her, the people who would have she were already dead.

She paused.

That wasn’t completely true.

Her partner might be sad. There was definitely a chance that Sombra may mourn for her. Her mind conjured and image of Sombra sad. Her jaw tightened. She didn’t like what she saw, and with a grunt Widowmaker pressed her hands fully back on her wound, intent to survive this whole ordeal.

\-----------------

She expected to see Sombra in the aftermath. What she didn’t expect was for Sombra to barge in with nostrils flaring, unbridled anger flaring in her eyes.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me?!”

Sombra slammed her hands onto the guard railings of the hospital bed, breathing labored as she glanced here and there from the IV in her arm to her stomach. Widowmaker silently redirected her gaze from her left abdomen to her right, where the wound actually was.

A noise squeaked out of Sombra’s throat and slowly the anger in her eyes faded to anguish. She flopped down, sinking her head to rest near Widowmaker’s lap and draped her arms on the bed close to where her head laid.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Sombra mumbled out, not bothering to lift her head. There was a wobble in her tone. Widowmaker guessed that tears were forming and maybe Sombra was attempting to hide them. “You should’ve called me.”

“You were busy.”

Sombra’s head snapped up. She was right, there were tears.

“We. Are. Partners.” Sombra hissed. She shook her head and wiped at her nose haphazardly with the back of her hand. “Who the fuck cares if I was busy extracting data?! If you’re dying I better damn well know!”

Sombra appeared raw, chest heaving, nose red. She can spot disappointment. Her stomach roiled. She cannot bear to look at her any longer. Widowmaker’s eyes fell to her lap.

“You are mad at me.” She whispered as she trained her vision on the bedsheets. “I see.”

It was only when she sees Sombra deflate from the corner of her eye that Widowmaker dared glance at her again. She doesn’t say a word as she watched Sombra rub at her own face as she attempted to calm down. Through her fingers Sombra peeked at her and to Widowmaker she looked more tired than she had ever seen.

“Hey, come on now, don’t frown. I’m not mad at you, arana. I promise.” She laid her hand on hers and squeezed. “I was just worried. That’s all.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Sombra sighed deeply once more and leaned forward to rest her head on her shoulder. Widowmaker can feel her breath on her shoulder as she spoke again, a murmur straight into the medical gown’s fabric. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m glad you’re alive. Just please just- just tell me next time, okay? You can rely on me.”

Widowmaker focused on the feel of Sombra. She then closed her eyes and nodded.

\-----------------

“You ready to head out, partner?”

Sombra was standing on top of a rock. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t even smart. They were in enemy territory and they were in broad daylight. Sombra smiled at her from on top of that rock, a cocky crooked grin and eyes dancing with delight. They were going to delve into their largest mission to date and the woman seemed to be riding high. It was stupid and the correct thing to do would be to berate her for trivializing the whole matter.

She didn’t.

“Ready... Partner.”

And then she walked away, not bothering to stay and savor how the woman reacted to her first time ever admitting to their partnership. That flicker of shock on Sombra’s face and consequent almost stumble of the rock had told her enough. She touched at her lips as she reached her set up point. It felt strange to finally say it out aloud, but they were partners and Widowmaker was certain now. She no longer minded.

She glanced at Sombra and not in a bad way, felt her heart twinge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say 3 chapters? Its gon be 4. (I think)

**Author's Note:**

> Just to reiterate:  
> This is a love story, but its not one that ends happily.  
> No character is killed off and its not cheating, but it won't end happy as that was the request.  
> Please remember that if you choose to read this work. I am forewarning you all right now.


End file.
